And that’s pretty much my commute.
His commute is a little bit longer.
It’s rough, this life.
*Working 9-5- Dolly Parton
Some people have trunk monkeys?
We have tent kitties. Less violent, now with more purring. It’s been darn toasty here in the PNW and for those of us living in old houses with poor ventilation, windows that are painted shut and no air conditioning, the second story bedrooms can be downright inhabitable for these 4 or 5 days when we have heat. The boys have embraced the tent! Camping!
Front Porch camping that is. And let me tell you if you want to never sleep again, you can let your 4 and 6 year old sleep outside by themselves. Guaranteed to be up all night checking on them. Usually the 4 year old comes in around midnight and I can sleep a little better, I’m not as worried about his older brother, you know except for the Cougars and what not. Sheesh.
Maybe I should get that trunk monkey. Do you think they come in Deck Monkey varieties?
This whole mother of older boys thing is for the birds.
Beverly, named after one of our favorite gardeners, produced her first blueberries this week. We ate them right up.
After two weeks of feeling overwhelmed with Workety work work stuff, on top of the whole feeding and clothing of the children and keeping them if not happy then interested, I decided to turn that frown upside down.
Because as my husband always says “Who will care a hundred years from now?” and true if we are talking oil spill or plastic intake this might not be the best motto, but when speaking of the moment and the list of things to do? It works.
The children they are good for so many things, but one of the biggest things is perspective. As in getting some, or changing yours. I think we sometimes forget (us tall folks) what it was like when looking up wasn’t something we had to be reminded to do.
But something we just did.
When everything was bigger than we were, not just physically but in every way. And that ‘bigness’ brought us joy and wonder. Before we were afraid of the ‘bigness’ or those things we now are old enough to fear.
Not just fear, but worry about, panic about. There was a time though when not being able to see where you were going? wasn’t a concern, because there was someone to guide you and keep you safe. Or at least scrape you off the pavement.
The boys of the Burrow can always be counted on to at least scrape me off the pavement. The youngest can be counted on to wrap his dirty, chubby fingers around my neck and wind them in my hair, pull me too close and slobber on my ear “Mom, I wuv you, SO MUCH!” and his brother will most likely stroke my arm while trying to push his way into this grubby embrace saying “Mom, don’t worry, I still ‘preciate you, even when you are not preciating me!”
And their father? He can be counted on to take one of them under his arm so that he can get some action as well. Wrap me in his ‘lovin brace and say to me “Remember me?”.
And I do.
And I also remember, that I am grateful, that the biggest stressers in my life? Are scheduling enough time to do all the things I love, and choose to do.
*But I do love you -LeAnn Rimes
Weekend Rundown
Monday: Total failure to get up and go for a run…sad
-Crunchy bike 4 miles
Tuesday: Crunchy bike 4 miles
Wednesday: 3 mile run 10 min on 5 off
Thursday:
Friday:
Saturday:
Sunday:
The man has been traveling for the last two weeks and it has wreaked havoc with my schedule. Having to do it all yourself is hard, especially when you are used to someone else backing you up. People frown on you just leaving your sleeping children alone in the house while you put in three miles in the morning.
I know…weird.
Plus it’s summer , so schedules are weird, camp, swimming, playgroup, trying to fit in family time and get my work done (whole other job thingee).
One of the hardest things about working at home is not the working part, it’s the playing part. I know? Right! I took Saturday and Sunday off from work. Sounds weird, but it is unusual for me (us). I usually check in once a day and get drawn into emails or projects.
When the man is gone I cycle through feeling guilty because I”m trying to cram work into the day and feeling like I don’t actually see the boys because I’m busy grumping at them because I’m working.
It’s actually really hard to ignore work all day. But I did it! Twice.
The man is back, and we are back on track, here’s to a week of putting the fun back in dysfunctional and getting some sewing time too.
It’s just that he does. Everything, his way. Not as in, he gets his way, just as in, he does it his way. His brother has always been a boy who asks questions, Why ? Where? What? He is the son that always says, Show me, Help me.
But this one? Right here? He is a doer. A jumper in of the two foot persuasion. Not, a thinker througher. A heart attack giver, to this commonly acknowledged to be over protective nervous Mama. And generally, everything is fine. We have yet to go to the Emergency Room (knock on wood-every tree in this yard in fact). And the truth of the matter is, that life with these two? Is never boring.
Peanut butter, blueberries and strawberry jam sandwich, thank you very much.
*My Way- Frank (Sinatra)
Sports camp. An experience in itself. Small children with balls, kicking, throwing, running, falling, rolling. Only two miles away. It only takes 12 minutes to get there. Downhill all the way! The Four Year old takes the downhill shift, because he does not so much peddle as attempt to throw the bike from side to side while swiveling his head rapidly.
Moo is resigned to his seat in the back of the chariot, crammed into a space that is no longer big enough to contain him. He takes the uphill shift, actually helping me to push the crunchy car uphill.
Some of the sting of the chariot seat is removed by allowing said six year old to photograph our route. I removed all the blurry pictures of runners, dogs, houses, car wheels. Your welcome.
I left in the picture of his shoes.
Its that time of year, when the berries are in bloom, when the strawberries taste like strawberries and the blueberries taste like blueberries and the SNOZBERRIES TASTE LIKE SNOZBERRIES!
(unnamed blueberry bush, we don’t name them till the produce, we have a working Burrow here, no slouching!)
Though our own crop is still in the works, it looks like this year we will get 17 of our very own berries! form our Blueberry bush! the Farmers Market is jumping. And loaded with berries that you can snap up to be your very own, and maybe even some of them will make it home.
And you know what happens then.
I can’t stop myself from jammin’ Oh how I love to jam, yes you know, I wax on and on each season. I love those pretty jars all in a row, on the shelf for a winter’s day in the future when we will once again wonder “the sun? what is that again?”
Blueberry, Strawberry and Strawberry Rhubarb
Running Log
Monday: Running (3miles) 10 min on 5mins off (oy)
Crunchy bike as transportation this day 7-8 miles.
Tuesday: Crunchy bike as transportation this day 4miles
Wednesday: nothing, just lazy
Thursday: 7 miles on the bike, uphill both ways towing children…IN THE SNOW! okay not.
Friday:
Saturday:
Sunday: Running 3 miles 10 min on 5 mins off. Hard.
Today’s run was hard, Scott was gone last week so getting all my runs in didn’t happen and I wheezed myself through 10 on today. I think I’ll stick to 10 on next week as well as it is another crazy schedule week.
The boys are going to t-ball camp this week 2 miles from our house. Nothing is two miles from our house! Ever! It’s amazing. So we are using this excuse to break out our crunchy mobile. Now! with extended cab! Look out world….because we are large, and wearing helmets.
We took the day off from not doing much to go see Shrek the Third IN 3D! My glasses didn’t work properly, but maybe I’m getting old.
Everywhere I turn lately it seems ‘overwhelmed’ is the theme, it is even spilling across the blogosphere. Soulemama, wrote a great post today that I thought put it perspective for me.
(And by today I mean Thursday, because that is when I started this post, but today is Saturday…)
It’s true, we all have so much going on, and it is so easy to let those things build up to volcano explosion status. It is easy to be to present in the moment, with dishes threatening to colonize and overthrow in the kitchen, dirty laundry that multiplies no matter how many trips to the thrift store to donate you take. To focused on the now and not on the ‘this can wait’.
And there are ‘now’ moments that remind you even though you are completely stressed out, it is not always obvious to others and frankly most are to caught up in their own conversations.
Moo:If you die will we be adopted?
Mama:No, if dad and I both die you will live with Uncle Steve.
Wah:But Uncle Steve doesn’t have a wife.
Mama:That is true.
Moo:Is he a teenager?
Mama:No, he is older that dad.
Wah:When will he get a wife?
Mama: Not everybody has a wife, some people don’t want to be married
Moo: why? (incredulous)
Mama: because they haven’t found anyone the love enough to marry yet.
Moo:I have a girlfriend already, I met her at school and we will be married.
Mam: hunh
Moo: but not until I can drive
Wah: right!! What about meeee?
Moo: You need a girlfriend.
Wah: Well I can not marry Ripley’s sister.
Moo:Why not?
Wah: She does not use the potty very good yet
Moo: Oh yeah….
I wonder if Uncle Steve’s just had a hard time finding women who can use the potty very good?
*Pressure-billy joel
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